For a long time, my career in the criminal justice system was a superb reason not to feel much of anything. It’s a world where emotions aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. You’re encouraged to think, to analyse, to plan but not really to feel.
In many ways, it made perfect sense. The work is tough, the environments can be challenging and the stories you hear are often deeply painful and disturbing. There’s a strong, unspoken rule that you keep your emotions under control and that you stay ‘professional’. And so, like everyone else, I learned to compartmentalise.
When people asked how I was coping, I’d give the same answer I now hear from people I supervise,
‘Oh, I’m fine. I’m really good at separating my work life from my personal life.’
It sounded strong, professional, safe. And honestly, at the time, it probably was protective. Compartmentalising helped me stay upright in environments where it felt extremely volatile and shaky. It was a shield, and a necessary one.
But over time, something started to shift. The more I worked with people, the more I sat in rooms filled with pain, trauma and resilience the more I realised that my shield was also a wall. It wasn’t just keeping the hard stuff out; it was keeping part of me out too.
I began to understand that to connect deeply with others, I had to be willing to connect deeply with myself, even when that meant feeling things I’d rather not. It wasn’t an overnight revelation. It’s been a slow, sometimes uncomfortable process of unlearning what ‘professionalism’ is supposed to look like.
Now, I allow myself to feel what I feel. And yes, it comes at a cost. There are days when I leave work feeling heavy, emotionally drained and sometimes pretty raw. Certain stories and environments impact me more than they used to. But what I’ve gained in return is immeasurable.
I feel more connected to my clients, to the work, and to myself. There’s a depth and authenticity in my practice that simply wasn’t there when I was trying to keep everything tidy and contained. I’ve come to see that feeling deeply doesn’t make us less effective, it makes us more human and therefore, more attuned to the humanity in others.
It’s a point of exploration when I supervise; what is being protected and why? How will this impact on personal and professional growth? Because personal and professional development aren’t two separate things. The more we expand our capacity to sit with our own emotions, joy, sadness, anger, grief, vulnerability, the more space we create for others to do the same.
Feeling is part of being alive. All of it, the light and the dark, the comfortable and the uncomfortable. And when we let ourselves experience the full range of that, something shifts. We stop just doing the work and start being in it; what you feel becomes part of the work.
And I think that’s what true integration looks like, bringing all parts of ourselves to the table. Not just the capable, composed professional, but also the human being who feels, who’s moved, who sometimes struggles. My clients are often working toward exactly that, learning how to live as whole, integrated people rather than fragmented versions of themselves.
By allowing clients to see I’m also working towards it feels like the most honest and meaningful way to work.